Final Stroke
by Jaylynik
Summary: G1. Post S4. The Decepticons are scattered about the galaxy, and nothing stands between Omega Supreme and his pursuit of the Constructicons. The builders come up with an unusual plan to bring an end to the eons old chase.
1. Proof

She crouched behind a ruined wall on the remote, desolate planet and waited. Timing was critical here, and there was no room for error. Even as she thrilled over the level of precision this objective called for, she railed against being rushed.

The dull thud of the approaching behemoth's footsteps grew louder. Capstone ducked further from view and waited for the moment to strike. She silently cursed the large, translucent orange "wings" and bright orange-red cannon-barrel that prevented her from otherwise blending into her surroundings. She made mental note to argue against the colors later, and against false wings entirely. It wasn't as if they served a purpose. However, she only had moments for such musings before the monster was upon her and the time for action had come.

She leapt into the air and flew towards her target, activating her energon sword, Deathkillblade, in flight. This was it; this was the moment when she proved herself, when she validated all the time and effort spent in her construction. This was the moment when she, Capstone, would bring down Devastator!

A trickle of motion at the very edge of the gestalt's visual field drew his attention and, acting more on primal instinct than conscious thought, the combiner raised his hand and swatted. Capstone, so focused on her task, was taken off-guard as a hand larger than she came hurtling her way and knocked her from the sky. But, as hard as the hand hit her, the ground hit harder, and after that, she knew only blackness.


	2. Useful

Capstone moaned softly as consciousness returned. Every bit of her hurt, and those stupid wings were probably cr- no. No they weren't. They were fine. Damn. In fact… "You've repaired me," the gray mechanoid said, looking over her body. Confusion tainted her voice.

"Of course we have!" Bonecrusher boomed from nearby, where he leaned against one of the small room's walls. "You're no good to us broken!"

The group of them, six Constructicons and Capstone, were in the bland bunker that served as their base of operations on the ruined planet where they came to train, build, and recover. It was the only planet Capstone had ever known, although the Constructicons left from time to time to take contracts, earning the credits they needed to pay for fuel, tools, and other supplies. This was risky; the more often they left and came back, the greater the chance that Omega Supreme would eventually trace them there. It was also their best choice, since it was far too early to risk an outsider discovering Capstone's existence. The room itself was half-ruined, cleared out only enough to make it usable, with just the bare necessities moved into it. To the Constructicons, the place felt like the Charr Exile all over again, but Capstone was far too young to remember those times.

Capstone's head tilted forward and she sighed. "It looks like I have a long way to go before I'm of use, even fixed."

Scrapper and Hook exchanged glances, Hook frowning. Where did that come from? Depression over not being useful was more a Scavenger trait, but he had been specifically excluded. They both looked back at the gray form before them, and Scrapper spoke first. "Well, uhm, look, just because you're not useful yet-" The group's foreman flailed about for the words he needed, but damn it, he just wasn't very good at being comforting!

Still, it seemed to have been enough. Capstone shook her head, then lifted it, chin pointed upward as she actually managed to look down her nose at her creators. "Oh, I will be," she said, her tone built on a firm foundation of certainty. "I have to admit, I'm… disappointed with how long it's taking me to get to the point I need to be at, but, so long as I keep moving forward, I will eventually get there."

Hook's frown flickered briefly to a slight, amused smile before he managed to hide it behind a blander expression, while Long Haul's optic band flashed a bit brighter. Perhaps both recognized a part of themselves in that little speech. Before any further analysis could be made, however, Capstone spoke again. "But if I've been repaired, why am I still so sore?" 

"Er, well, your systems are still adjusting to the new parts, and changes, and… stuff," Scavenger offered in bumbling explanation.

"You should be able to access a diagnostic report that tells you how close you are to full, erm, assimilation," Scrapper added. "The soreness is just a reminder that you need to do that."

"When the soreness goes away," Hook spoke up, perhaps not wanting to be left out the impromptu lesson, "you'll have fully adapted to the additional parts. The diagnostics will confirm it, if you want a more exact read-out. Generally speaking, you do not want to engage in any strenuous activities until that point."

"Not that you can always help that," Long Haul grunted from where he sat on an overturned box, arms crossed. "S'always some work to get done, in one form or another."

"Or a battle to contend with!" Mixmaster added happily.

Capstone let her gaze sweep across the room. The way the Constructicons would sometimes finish each other's thoughts was a bit unnerving at times, but at least this time they weren't doing it mid-sentence. She wondered, absently, if it came from the long time they'd been together, the fact that they combined into Devastator, or a combination of the two. And would it eventually happen to her? "So we won't be able to resume my exercises until the soreness goes away?"

"You're that eager to get slapped down again?" Bonecrusher chuckled, while Scrapper shook his head.

"No. Not yet," he began. "Later on, we may be picking up before your system adaptations are complete; as Long Haul pointed out, you don't always get to work under ideal conditions. But now it's a bit too early to subject you to endurance tests. We'll work up to that." 

"In the meantime, I am certain we can come up with some way to keep you useful," Hook said.

"Oh! Oh!" interjected Mixmaster. "I know! She can help me with some sorting, and classification, and labeling, and…"

"Well, perhaps," Scrapper considered. Dealing with Mixmaster's organizational systems could be enough to weaken most minds, but if Capstone couldn't deal with something like that, she couldn't deal with the task she was designed for. It would be a good test, and it would keep Mixmaster out of everyone else's ways for awhile. Finally Scrapper nodded. "All right, Mixmaster. She's yours."


	3. Organized

"And this goes there because… why?" Capstone asked warily, her head cocked to a skeptical angle as she spoke.

"Because their common names both start with the Ancient Autobot letter, 'Ahwn', that's why!" Mixmaster replied cheerfully, not particularly bothered that his ward seemed to have such problems with basic chemical sorting. Since he had been excluded from the mix, it was only to be expected. "I would offer to spell it out for you, but that doesn't seem to be working, either. Don't you read Ancient Autobot?"

"Uhm, no," Capstone answered, half embarrassed and half annoyed. "I don't. You lot didn't see fit to include it in my databanks."

"Oh," Mixmaster said, staring uncertainly at Capstone a moment before he shrugged and moved on. "Well, that's because no one uses it anymore! Besides, a Decepticon doesn't need to know it, anyway."

Capstone sighed and then returned her attention to the offending chemical and its proper positioning in the grand scheme of things. She reached to put it away, and then her optic band flashed in realization. "Wait a minute," Capstone began, turning back to Mixmaster. "I thought you said potassium is highly reactive with dihydrogen monoxide!"

"That's right, that's right!" Mixmaster burbled happily as he bustled about, obviously not suffering from any of those annoying hang-ups that Capstone appeared to be grappling with.

"Then… why do you want me to put them together?" Capstone queried, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"Because their common names both start with the Ancient Autobot letter, 'Ahwn'!" Mixmaster repeated, still not bothered by the density that Capstone was displaying. Considering what went into making her, density would be par for the course. "Weren't you listening earlier?"

Capstone just stared at Mixmaster for several long moments before she gave up with a sigh. She placed the offending chemical on an entirely different shelf from the one where it supposedly belonged, deciding that this was one explosion she didn't want to be responsible for, and changed the subject. "So, do you have any idea how much longer it will be? Before I'm ready, that is."

"Oh, I don't know," Mixmaster said absently as he continued arranging and rearranging his lab. As he passed, he put the potassium up by the dihydrogen monoxide, causing Capstone to take several steps away from that area. "Another year, maybe two… maybe more. Since the others saw fit to mix in Bonecrusher and Long Haul, while excluding me, who knows how long it'll take? Those two aren't known for their speed."

Capstone's fist clenched at the implied insult. Even if it wasn't aimed at her, she had still been caught in the crossfire. Finally, she relaxed her fingers. "You seem very bitter about that," she observed coolly.

"Yeah, well… it's stupid!" Mixmaster exclaimed, slamming down a beaker of… something, hard enough to shatter it. Capstone took another two steps back and observed with interest that whatever it had been was eating its way through the metal table, but seemed to have no effect on Mixmaster. "They think they're so much better than the rest of us-"

"Long Haul thinks he's better than you?" Capstone interrupted.

"Yes! Well, okay, probably not. But still, but still!" Mixmaster ranted, moving into high speed, "They say I'm too unstable! Me, unstable! And well, and well…" Mixmaster took a moment to consider this. "Well, maybe I am, but in a good way!" He turned towards Capstone and grinned at the grey female. "You're really missing out, not getting any of this," he added before jumping up and back to sit on the table that was now behind him. Unfortunately, with the surface weakened as it was by the chemicals, it didn't have the strength to support Mixmaster's weight, and he fell right through with a loud clatter and an 'umph.'

Capstone looked down her nose, the only 'standard' facial feature she possessed, at Mixmaster and said dryly, "So I see." After a moment she stretched out a hand to help the chemist upright, and it only took the other another two moments to accept. "So… why were Scavenger and Scrapper excluded from my mental make-up? I'm still rather unclear on that. Scavenger seems rather bothered by it, too."

Once righted, Mixmaster waved his hand dismissively, not considering for a moment that if, perhaps, the bruise to his ego was real, so was the one to Scavenger's. "Yeah, he thinks it means he's less useful or something. It's absurd. He's perfectly useful as Scavenger. He's just no good as Capstone." The green and purple robot kneeled and examined the remains of his table, then shrugged and shooed Capstone back so he could transform. "He's so eager to please… not that I mind, mind you, makes a pleasant change from the others, but that tendency might not work so well in you. Oh, and could you break apart what's left of that table and load it in? Might as well do something else useful with it."

"And Scrapper?" Capstone approached and began feeding bits of the table into Mixmaster's funnel, being careful to avoid touching the sections that looked like they had the mystery chemical on them.

"Oh, Scrapper?" Somehow, despite being a cement truck, Mixmaster gave the definite impression of a shrug. "Scrapper's just a wuss."


	4. Digging

Time passed. More than weeks, less than years, somewhere in the neighborhood of months. Capstone healed, trained, and eventually got slapped down by Devastator, thus starting the whole cycle over again. The Constructicons left the planet for supplies and work, and then returned. Capstone trained, got slapped down by Devastator, and began recovering again. While she was recovering, she was assigned busy work. Busy work, like assisting Scavenger, Bonecrusher, and Long Haul in clearing out caverns for potential mining.

"We've still got some good ore deposits down here," Scavenger explained from his shovel mode. He indicated the far wall, "It'll just take a bit of work to get to them. Whoever this planet belonged to cleared it out pretty good, but they didn't dig deep enough to get everything."

"So when do we get to blowin' stuff up?" Bonecrusher asked eagerly.

"When we won't collapse the whole damned thing on our heads," Long Haul replied from where he was standing near one of the edges, examining the walls. "With us all down here with you, it'll be kinda hard to dig you out, and I don't think this place can take explosions yet, anyways."

"I'll be the judge of that," Bonecrusher snapped as he stomped towards where Long Haul was standing. He studied the area carefully and then, after a moment, winced slightly and frowned. "Yeah, guess we're going have some work to do first, if this place has /got/ to stay usable," he grumbled, then looked up at the others. "Does it have to stay usable?"

"Yes!" Long Haul, Capstone, and even Scavenger answered as one.

Bonecrusher crossed his arms and grumbled. "Eh. All right. Best we better get to work." He paused and looked back at Capstone. "Your systems back up from your last smack-down?"

"Not quite," Capstone answered as she approached the wall, hoping to see in it what the others saw. "They're up to 87 percent of optimal, though."

"Good," Long Haul answered as he rapped on the wall with his knuckles. "Then you can help us. It'll put a strain on you, but you should be far enough along for that." Then he plodded towards the supplies that he had carried down with them. He waved towards Scavenger. "C'mon, guys. Let's get this stuff shored up before it collapses on our heads _without_ any explosions."

"Right, Haul," Scavenger answered cheerfully as he transformed before practically bouncing towards the others in an effort to be useful. Capstone lifted up a girder, and the work began. Sometimes there was chatter, sometimes there was bickering, sometimes there was silence. When there was conversation, it was almost never about the task at hand. Why should it be? The Constructicons knew what they were doing, and didn't need to talk to get it right. Capstone, however, was another matter, and she frequently held up progress with her questions.

Sometimes, the questions weren't about the task at hand, either. "While I'm… certainly able to last longer than I used to, and have gotten better about hiding, and getting closer to you before getting noticed, I…" she hesitated a moment, then finally plowed forward. "You guys didn't design me into a gestalt killer."

Scavenger's head hung a moment, while Long Haul grunted. "I didn't design you at all. That was mostly Hook and Scrapper. We _all_ had a hand in building you, though, one way or another." Long Haul paused and stepped back to check his work. "And you're right. They didn't design you to be a gestalt killer. They didn't even design you to be a Guardian killer. You've just gotta chop his head off!"

"Oh, that's all," Capstone muttered sarcastically. "Well, glad to hear you guys aren't expecting anything extreme of me or anything."

"It won't be that bad," Bonecrusher explained. He paused as little as possible in his work, anxious, as he was, to get to the explosions. "Besides, when you're practicing against us, we know you're coming. He shouldn't."

"Yeah," Scavenger added. He had somewhat mixed feelings about Capstone. It hurt him that the others thought his mind wasn't good enough to be included in the mix that made up hers. He felt a little jealous on how she was… fawned over wasn't quite the word, but a lot of attention was given to her preparation, and while he understood it, he couldn't help but think it meant that she was somehow more useful, more important than he was. "And besides, when you deal with us, we only have you to worry about. When you finally have to go up against Omega Supreme, he'll have us to worry about..."

"…And believe us," Bonecrusher broke in, "if he's got us to deal with, he won't be paying attention to much else!" There was a brief pause, then Bonecrusher spoke again. "Well… you folks better head topside." He clapped his hands together, then rubbed them eagerly. "Time for me to do my _real_ job.


	5. Half

Capstone recovered and trained. Capstone got knocked from the sky by Devastator. Capstone recovered and trained. The Constructicons left for more contracts. The Constructicons returned. Capstone got defeated by Devastator. Capstone recovered and trained. The Constructicons left for more contracts.

Capstone was alone on the planet.

Capstone's mind was the combined copy of Hook's, Long Haul's, and Bonecrusher's. The reason was specific. She needed to be her own person, and yet to think like a Constructicon, to see things their way. By combining the thought patterns of multiple Constructicons, they made sure she would be not be too much like any particular one of them, while being as much like a part of that group as someone who had never merged with them possibly could be. She wasn't a half-Devastator. While Devastator, also, was a merging of the Constructicons, they still each retained their own cores and were forced to combine through a link that tended to filter the group down to their lowest common denominator (mostly Bonecrusher). Capstone, on the other hand, was a more careful overlap, the coding contradictions as thoroughly worked out as possible (the syntax of self-awareness being poorly understood at best), all wrapped up in a single laser core. No one was quite certain why Capstone had designated herself a female, although Long Haul and Bonecrusher both blamed Hook.

Capstone's mind was the combination of three minds, and those three belonged to a set of six. This had two main side-effects. One was that Capstone never felt quite complete in her own thoughts. This side-effect was, in fact, intentional, as cruel as that may sound; it served her primary purpose. The second was that Capstone _hated_ being alone. This was unintentional, but unavoidable.

Capstone was alone on the planet. Her instincts told her to build something of it. Her skill allocation files told her she didn't know how. Her wandering mind nudged her to get started on her glorious purpose. The Constructicons told her she wasn't ready. Her basest desires told her that, if she could do nothing else, she should start hitting something. Hit it until it was dust.

That she could do.

She had been out for awhile in one of the canyons relatively near base, hitting rocks, boulders, and majestic stone formations that had stood for countless eons. She alternated between her firsts, her pistol, her shoulder-cannon, and her sword, but the end effect was the same: after a good amount of effort, things _broke_. It was most satisfying, and she used the activity to bury the acute awareness that she was alone in the world.

That was, until her radio crackled to life, telling her that this was no longer the case. Scrapper's voice she recognized immediately, but, although it seemed familiar to some part of her, she had never personally heard the Constructicon leader's vocoder demonstrate that level of strain.

"Capstone, return to base at once and prepare for emergency evacuation," the artist commanded tersely. "He's found us, Capstone. Omega Supreme is coming!"


	6. Try

By the time Capstone had returned to base, the Constructicons had already moved most of what the group collectively considered essential onto the ship, and were arguing over what they individually considered essential while the ship refueled. As they argued, they hurriedly checked the craft over to make sure it was good for another long trip so quickly.

The moment Capstone landed, Long Haul drafted her to assist him in carrying what _he_ considered essential onto their craft, a task that she immediately resented and immediately accepted, although not without complaint. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Long Haul answered her grumblings as she loaded supplies into his truck bed – mostly repair parts and raw materials since, as the Constructicons' logistician, he had a better idea of what was _actually_ essential than most of his brothers. "My pump leaks for you. Now try whining to someone who doesn't have to do this for a living, huh?"

Capstone sighed as she continued to work. Before too much longer, however, she was back to complaining, even though she knew it was falling on deaf audio receptors. It was as if complaining about having to carry things was hard-coded into her or something. Once Long Haul was loaded up, Capstone clambered into the back with the supplies and rode with them into the ship's cargo hold. As they unloaded, the other Constructicons slowly finished their respective tasks and assisted (or unloaded other things they had managed to grab). "Does anyone know how much more time we have?" Scavenger asked as he strapped a crate down. "I want to bring in more of my collection."

"Scavenger, we don't need to be carrying around your _junk_!" Long Haul snapped as he waited for the others to finish unloading him.

"It's not junk!" Scavenger protested. "It's useful stuff! And really neat, too!"

"Leave it, Scrounge," interrupted Scrapper. "We actually made good time with this. We should be able to get a decent lead in."

Capstone hefted a crate and made a soft, staticy noise, an electronic clearing of her throat. "You know, I've been training all this time. Maybe… maybe now would be a good time to, erm, prove my purpose."

The Constructicons didn't need to speak to each other in order to work effectively. They had worked together far too long for words to be a necessity. Still, as one, they all paused, and quick glances were exchanged before they returned to their respective tasks. "No," Scrapper answered, immediately dismissive. "You're still not ready?"

"How many times does Devastator need to slap me down before I _am_ ready," Capstone growled. "When I go up against Omega, I'll have surprise and Devastator on my side. I'm _ready_!"

"No, you're not," Scrapper answered, voice calm but still firm. "Not mentally." He paused, lifted another crate from Long Haul's bed, and looked over it at her. "There's one more thing that needs to be done, Capstone. It's… for you to be able to do this, you have to understand us, our perspective, from inside out. Capstone, you're going to have to merge with us first."

There was silence for a few moments. Supplies were removed and strapped down. Long Haul was emptied. Finally, Capstone asked, "Do we have time to do it before he gets here? I mean… I think I know what connectors you'll be using. Isn't it just a matter of making the proper links?"

"No!" protested Hook. "No! Absolutely not! This is the sort of thing that requires a lot of time, careful preparation, double checking and triple checking of each component and interlock. This is _not_ the sort of thing that can be rushed!"

"With you, nothing's the sort of thing that can be rushed!" Long Haul grumbled. "That's why we're _always_ having to rush you."

"And _that's_ the reason, and the _only_ reason, why mistakes happen!" Hook sniffed.

"We should do it now!" said Mixmaster. "Who knows when we'll get another chance? Besides, the pressure will just make it more _interesting_!"

"Guys, don't fight! I… I…" Scavenger hesitated and looked towards Scrapper. "Do we have time for this, now? I think it'll be a little easier, leaving my collection, if we at least try this instead."

Scrapper put down the crate he was holding and looked from Constructicon to Constructicon, although when his gaze rested, it was on grey and orange, not lime green and purple. "Get the connections ready," he said, coming to a decision, "but on the ship. If things go bad, be ready to pull the plug and run immediately."

"No! I object!" Hook argued. "We ca-"

"Damn it, Hook," snapped Bonecrusher, "don't make me use my concussive voting system, because you know I will!"

With that, it was settled.


	7. Ready

Capstone cast a sympathetic glance in Hook's direction as he and Scrapper worked quickly to attach the cables which would allow the Constructicons to gestalt-merge mentally without doing so physically. She had enough of Hook in her programming to appreciate his irritation with being forced to hurry, but there was no telling when, if ever, they'd have another opportunity; the risk that Omega Supreme, while investigating their abandoned planet-base, might learn enough of their project to prevent it was all too real.

That, and she wasn't particularly eager to spend another couple of years being smashed by Devastator every month or so. Striving for perfection when others must suffer was one thing; when she was the one doing the suffering, it was a different matter entirely.

Before long, Bonecrusher and Scavenger were cabled to Hook, Mixmaster and Scrapper were cabled to Long Haul, and Long Haul and Hook were both cabled to a central device that, when activated, would shut down their bodily control and initiate their merge, set to last no more than a few minutes. This was the most dangerous part; they had to shut down their bodies or else Devastator might damage their escape vessel. Unfortunately, this meant that for a few minutes' time, the entire group would be completely helpless.

Mixmaster cackled. "This is going to be _fun_!"

Scrapper, his own cable still tethering him to Long Haul, approached the seated Capstone and kneeled before opening a panel on her leg. "We're still using our normal gestalt connections, but we need extension cords for this. In your case, though, we have this," here Scrapper pulled a cable out from inside the open panel and stretched it over to the center device. He plugged it in, straightened, and turned towards the entire group. "Are we all ready?"

Scrapper was answered with a chorus of affirmatives that wasn't quite unanimous. The others looked at Hook, who remained silent. Hook glowered back at the rest. "Look, I agreed to be party to this slip-shod operation, and I _am _as ready as I can possibly _get _given the parameters, but you are not going to get me to say that I am ready."

"But you just said, 'I am ready,'" Mixmaster pointed out, mockingly.

"You _know_ what I mean," Hook sniffed.

Scrapper hesitated a moment, then sighed. "Well… here we go, then." He pressed the button, activating the merge.


	8. Complete

Capstone was suddenly aware of the Constructicons in a way that went far beyond their mere physical presence. She could feel them just beyond the edges of consciousness, just past the borders of her mind. And then those borders dissolved…

She did not completely lose her sense of self, and she could tell, could feel, that the others had not either. A part of Capstone remained Capstone and nothing else, but the rest of her flowed, merged, overlapped with six other minds. It was delicious; it was a coming home. It was the completion she had always longed for, that she knew could be there, and wasn't. For the first time in her existence, in that overlapping of seven minds, she felt like a whole person. And then, from the overlap, there emerged an eighth mind.

_**I… I am… I. Am. Terminus.**_

_Terminus?! Wha-?_

_He changed his name!_

It became harder and harder not to be utterly enveloped by the eighth mind, by Terminus, and Capstone didn't even try to resist. There seemed to be an instinct among the others to try to control, to guide this being ruled by base, destructive urges, and they appeared rather surprised when that proved unnecessary. After an initial failed attempt to move, Terminus settled, a powerful spring tensing, but a spring fully anticipating its uncoiling.

_**When I move, all will fall before me.**_

_He's… he's gained patience! His destructive urges have been reinforced, but he's got patience!_

_Yeah. I'm glad we shut down our bodies, though. We'll be wanting to use this shuttle here again._

_I think… I think he'd even be harder to, uhm, aim now._

_And goodness knows, he was hard __**enough**__ to begin with._

_Why bother? Just let him loose, I say!_

_We can't move, you moron!_

It was hard to say how long this went on. Capstone would be able to access her chronometer later, but at the time she found the extra effort difficult, and what did it matter, anyway? All she knew was that when the eighth consciousness began to dissolve, retreating into the other seven, and the walls began to reform, the time seemed far too short. In her mind she reached for the others, desperate to retain that completeness, but found herself swept away by an irresistible tide. In her thoughts, she began screaming. It took some time to realize that it wasn't just in her thoughts.

Capstone had fallen to her knees, her arms clasped to her shoulders as she held herself and screamed. Scrapper, who had been closest, knelt on one side, while the other Constructicons jostled each other to get near, to see what was wrong. She hadn't been this upset during the merge!

"Capstone! Capstone, it's okay! It's over!" Scrapper hissed out, desperate to calm her. Omega Supreme was still on his way.

_That's the problem!_ Capstone thought as she looked up at the Constructicons, her gaze sweeping from one face to the next. She fumbled to get her vocalizer working and finally managed to croak out, "I want it back." The misery that her mostly featureless face would not display instead found full release in her voice. "Please… please… give it back."

The Constructicons looked at each other, concern and surprise showing in the flash of their optics and the way shovels and arms were held. Finally, Long Haul pushed his way to her side and kneeled, placing a firm hand on Capstone's shoulder. "You'll get it back. But not with us," he said. "You've got a job to do first, and you know it ain't proper to leave a job undone."

The blocky female's merged-optic flashed in realization and she gasped. How could she have tried to brush aside her duty like that? It was harder, now, since she knew what else there could be, but a task was a task, and if each didn't do their part, the whole thing crumbled. She pulled air into her intake slots, then pushed herself to a standing position. She looked around at the slightly taller technicians, and nodded. "You're right. I'm ready."


	9. Civilization

"Does it have to be here, Scrapper?" Scavenger asked.

Scrapper scanned the ruined city. He looked up at the arching stone walkways, the intricately carved buildings made to mimic plants and animals that had died out on the planet ages before. The style was too organic for him, but he found he had some level of respect for the lost people's accomplishments. Still, if the choice came down to preserving the last remnant of an ancient civilization and ensuring the Constructicons' personal survival, Scrapper would side with survival every time.

He nodded. "We'll be able to use the area to our advantage. Lots of hiding places." Especially for Capstone, who had already hidden. "Besides, we don't have time to get anywhere else." With his last words, Scrapper switched from scanning the city to scanning the skies.

"Good," grunted Bonecrusher as he slammed his right first into the palm of his other hand. "I've been wanting to take this place down since we've been here."

Scavenger's tail twitched. "But I haven't had a chance to clear out all the cool stuff they had here," he reported mournfully.

"Too late! Too late!" shouted Mixmaster as he pointed towards a distant spec in the sky. "He's _coming_!"

Hook instinctively crouched into a battle-ready stance. "He has _got_ to suspect that we're up to something."

"Prolly," Long Haul answered as he fought the urge to summon his gun. As Devastator, he wouldn't need it. "He'll still come, though, 'cos it's us."

The rocket flew in from overhead, knocking down several of the taller buildings in its zeal to reach the Constructicons and proving that, if the choice came down to preserving the last remnant of an ancient civilization and ensuring the Constructicons' complete destruction, Omega Supreme would side with destruction every time.

The rocket touched down and began to fall apart before reassembling with pieces that really shouldn't have been there to form the towering grey, yellow, and orange Guardian robot. "Constructicons!" he announced. "Termination: imminent!"

"Remember," Scrapper hissed to the others. "We have to keep him occupied until Capstone can make her move." Then he shouted, "Constructicons! Transform! Phase one!" Before they were even in vehicle mode, Scrapper barked out the next command. "Unite!"

Magnetic locks clamped into place as Devastator built himself into existence once more. Huge fists clenched as giant prepared to clash with giant. "Prepare for oblivion, Omega Supreme! Devastator lives again!"


	10. Crystal

They had told her it would be easier than her training sessions had been. They had pointed out that Omega Supreme didn't know she was coming. They had reminded her that the Guardian would have other things to worry about.

They had neglected to mention the part where the buildings fell on her.

Capstone kicked the stone slab off of her and scrambled to her feet. Then she leapt, just in time to avoid several other large blocks from covering her once more. Her vocalizer emitted a snarl as she sized up the rubble keeping her from her mission before blasting it with her shoulder-mounted cannon. That worked, but it weakened the whole structure. The mech's optic flashed as the entire building began to rumble again, and she dived through her newly created opening before more of it came down on her head.

Once outside, Capstone spared a glance for her former hiding place. Perhaps Bonecrusher would be proud.

No. An echoing crash proved that Bonecrusher was concentrating on other things. Devastator was faltering. He had not yet fallen, but the moment was soon. She had taken too long to get out.

Maybe not too long. Capstone leapt into the air, Deathkillblade blazing, as this time Devastator landed a resounding blow. There were no distracting thoughts of proving her worth, of justifying her existence. There was only herself, Devastator, Omega Supreme, and her mission. All of reality was filtered into a single stroke of her blade.

Omega Supreme screamed as her sword struck true, and she reached- no! His head remained in place! She had struck, but not deep enough! Meanwhile, Omega Supreme reached behind his head to swat at the new threat. Capstone ducked once, then zipped backwards, hovering in the air like a mosquito as Devastator began to realize what was happening. The green and purple giant grasped for the orange and grey one, reaching for the other's arms, and Capstone had another opening.

She dived forward, returning her Deathkillblade to subspace, and latched onto the back of Omega's neck, clinging next to the gash she had created. Then she ripped the panel of the front of her leg open quickly enough to damage it. She reached in with her free hand and removed the same cable Scrapper had made use of to allow her to mentally merge.

Omega Supreme's giant form swayed as he worked to break free of Devastator's grip. Had it not been for her antigravs, Capstone would have been knocked free. As it was, she bit back the urge to shout at Devastator to hold him steady before she thrust both arms, one holding her cable, into the Guardian's open wound.

Omega liberated his clawed arm and again swiped at her, but her position made his task difficult, especially with Devastator still acting as a distraction. By feel, Capstone located the enormous wire she had been programmed to recognize, and she slammed the tip of her own cable against it. From that, a sharp wiretap emerged, penetrating the outer insulation to make contact with the essential neuro-conductor beneath.

As soon as metal touched metal, Capstone became aware of Omega Supreme in a way that went beyond physical, as she had earlier with the Constructicons. He was there, just beyond the boundaries of her consciousness, and then those boundaries began to dissolve…

Information flooded in, and only by refusing to process most of it did she avoid core shut-down. Around her, ruined stone buildings became overlaid with visions of shattered crystal, images of a strange, spider-like machine with tentacles flashed across her mind's eye, and a word she had never heard before bubbled to the surface. "Robo-smasher." She couldn't tell if she had said the word, if Omega Supreme had, or if it had even been said aloud at all.

While Capstone tried to process all this, giant orange claws clamped around her and ripped her away from her perch. Feedback sent a painful jolt through her entire system as she was suddenly slammed back into her own body. Both Capstone and Guardian screamed.

Then Capstone found herself hurtling through the air, thrown by the giant as he yelled, "You won't have me!" She hit the ground and bounced hard in a way that metal should not, then landed once more. Her body was again broken, but that was nothing compared with how shattered she felt inside. She could not even turn her head to see how the rest of the battle went, and could only stare at the remains of the enormous sculpture she had crashed into.

The Constructicons had told her it resembled something called a "reptile." Scavenger got even more specific, and had claimed it looked like a "dragon." Once it had had a triangular head, but Capstone's fall seemed to have knocked it off, along with one of the out-stretched wings. It had two legs, and balanced on one of them and a tail. The other rested atop a sphere that, when examined closely, proved to be a replica of the world they were on. Capstone had never been able to figure out whether it had been clutching the world protectively, possessively, or perhaps a combination of the two.

As the mechanoid's meandering stream of consciousness began to pour away entirely, she suspected that she would now never find out.


	11. Prologue

She knew the place; it was the tiny medical bay aboard the Constructicons' shuttle. However, there was something… off… about it. The whole room hummed quietly in a way that was hard to ignore at first, but quickly seemed to become a part of her. Capstone moaned softly and struggled to pull herself to a semi-sitting position.

A quick search of the room showed five Constructicons, several of whom were watching her in return, although Hook and Scrapper seemed to be consulting with each other over a read-out of sorts. Before anyone could say anything, though, the door slid open, and Long Haul entered, completing the set. "Ship's on auto, and course is plotted. We'll hear it if something goes wro- oh." He looked around at the others. "Finished putting her together, huh?"

This caught Hook and Scrapper's attention, and they both looked first up at Long Haul, then towards Capstone. "Oh, so you are awake," Hook observed needlessly.

Capstone sighed, then gave a single, firm nod of her head. "Yes. I am." She looked over the Constructicons. These were her creators, her family, and yet after having seen them for only a few moments through Omega Supreme's eyes, things already appeared so different. "You know, I'm not sure whether I should be angrier at you guys, or at myself," she said, voice frigid.

Optics brightened and fingers splayed in surprise. Glances were tossed about like confetti, but it was Bonecrusher who finally bulldozed through the silence. "What the smelt are you on about, Capstone?" he demanded.

"I need to know what happened back then. How it all fell apart. Your words. I read the files you guys have on it, but-" Capstone shook her head. "I thought they'd be enough. Assumed you'd tell me or show me everything I needed to know." She lifted her head and glared at her creators. "I guess I was wrong."

Silence fell again, but before it could settle, Scrapper sputtered into speech. "Well, uhm, ah… you see, it's not really a… comfortable subject for us."

Capstone's head snapped in Scrapper's direction, and she actually started to move towards him before she caught herself. "This is _not_ about your personal comfort level!" she shouted. "This is something I _need_ to know! Something I should have asked about before!" Then, suddenly, the anger left her, and she appeared to almost deflate. She looked around the room at the Constructicons, her family, and pleaded. "Please. I have to hear it."

Scavenger dropped her gaze and looked towards his feet, which seemed to have suddenly become quite interesting. He sighed. "She's right, guys. We shoulda told her."

Mixmaster replied, "Maybe so, but isn't it a bit late now, hmm?"

Scrapper gave Mixmaster a sharp look, his shovel perking before shaking slightly. "We don't know that yet!" he snapped. Then, finally, he turned back to Capstone. "I… okay, I guess it is time we told you." The nearest thing to an apology or an admission of guilt that was likely to come from Scrapper, but as it meant Capstone would finally get the full story, she accepted it, and Scrapper began.


	12. Story

Although it seemed difficult to contemplate so many years later, there had been a time before the Constructicons, or at least before the name, "Constructicons." The group who would one day use that word to describe themselves were already a team, a family, well before they ever imagined they'd eventually apply the "-con" suffix to themselves, before Devastator became their seventh member. Of course, in those days, they already believed their little family to have a seventh member: Omega Supreme.

They built Crystal City and maintained it, and while they worked tirelessly to protect their precious city from the internal threats of time and wear, Omega Supreme stood ready to protect it from external threats. For a long time, things were peaceful enough that the Guardian robot had little to do and little to worry about, and, although the Constructicons usually found themselves a bit busier than their large friend, they still always made time to spend with him. And settled snuggly into this dynamic, the seven were happy.

And so years, decades, centuries passed, and the war cast longer shadows on their planet. Omega Supreme, one of only a few remaining Guardian robots, and the only of his kind to have ever gained true self-awareness, true life, took a vague interest in the happenings, but was confident in his ability to defend Crystal City from whatever threats the Decepticons might bring against it.

The caretakers were not so confident. Word was coming back that some of the other Guardians had actually fallen, and while they were neither as powerful nor as efficient fighters as Omega, it was still a worrying trend. When it became apparent that Omega did not share their concerns, they met in secret to consider the problem of how to bolster Crystal City's defenses.

Scrapper was the first to bemoan the fact that there seemed to be no way to make new Guardian robots. While they certainly knew enough to improve on one, building one from scratch was beyond their capabilities, and even if it hadn't been, such a massive, ambitious project was sure to attract the attention of the Decepticons.

Mixmaster, however, was the first to suggest that, if they couldn't recreate the old style of Guardian robot, perhaps they could create an entirely new type of Guardian. Because any sufficiently massive project was bound to attract attention, this new kind of Guardian would be modular, a series of smaller units that would then merge into a full robot. A combiner.

There were no outsiders they trusted enough for the project, and creating fresh robots for it carried with it its own set of difficulties, so the caretakers decided that they themselves would be the first of this new kind of Guardian. When the time came, they would, as one, stand alongside Omega Supreme to protect their beautiful but fragile city. Still, they chose not to tell Omega until the project had come to fruition, feeling that their friend might object to them risking themselves for something that he viewed as unnecessary. It was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, after all.

Or so they thought.

For all the care they took, however, they were builders, creators, artists, and knew little about keeping secrets from more alert, practiced eyes. Word of what they were trying to do made its way to enemy audio sensors, and eventually to the leader of the Decepticons, Megatron himself. This new weapon that the caretakers were working on could have tremendous potential for offense, not just defense. It was, perhaps, just what he needed to deal with the ancient Guardians that gave his army so much trouble. And so, the very project that was to protect Crystal City from Megatron instead drew him to it.

He put the city under surveillance. The Decepticons learned Omega Supreme's patrol routes, his maintenance schedule, the caretakers' own paths through the city. Getting the Robo-smasher into the city had been the most difficult part, but they were eventually able to do so using a supply shipment and the help of a transporter who had recently… chosen to align himself with the Decepticon Empire.

Megatron waited until the caretakers were all but complete with their project to strike; they lacked only the initial merge tests. Perhaps he was concerned that the reprogramming process would negatively impact their creativity, their technical ability, their intelligence, but if so, those concerns would later prove to be groundless. He set a trap along a route he knew the caretakers would be soon take, and waited…

It was a… singular experience. New core values, undeniable and unable to be overridden, were injected, and in a flash, they found their normal personalities rebuilt around this core. They still were, in essence, the same people, with the same loves, the same friendships, the same interests and abilities, but there were irrefutable changes. First, there was the newfound "revelation" that Transformers were obviously the rightful rulers of the universe. And Decepticons were obviously the rightful rulers of Transformers. But more important than all this was a new compulsion that held sway over all else: Megatron was always to be obeyed.

Obedience seemed every bit as natural as resistance had moments before, and when Megatron commanded, as a test of their newfound loyalty, that Crystal City would fall, there was no argument. Regret? Yes. But no argument. Still, the once-caretakers, now Constructicons, hoped to avoid clashing with their friend, their companion, Omega Supreme. They had been deceiving him for awhile, anyway. What was one more deception? After all, they were Decepticons.

Omega Supreme, all too trusting, fell for their lies. He left Crystal City unguarded and in their hands as he rushed off to assist in a concocted emergency elsewhere. In his absence, the Constructicons immediately set to destroying their masterwork, but Crystal City was a big city, and it took time to destroy. They were still there when Omega finally realized the ruse and returned.

They fled, but Omega managed to ensnare the six and realized they had been tampered with. After having failed in his most solemn duty and losing very nearly all he had, Omega Supreme, desperate to hold onto this one last remainder of his old life, to his family, used an ability he had not employed since the dawning of his sapience. Guardian robots had originally been designed by the Quintessons as a means of keeping the Cybertronians in line. To that end, they also possessed basic reprogramming abilities, although those abilities were far outstripped by some of the Quintessons' other tools. Still, he tried, and for the second time in a short period, the Constructicons' minds were invaded.

Unfortunately, while Omega had been Quintesson technology, so had the Robo-smasher, and the Robo-smasher had been created for tougher cases. They remained firm in their loyalties to Megatron, but if Omega could not be avoided, perhaps he could be turned. If they could not fight alongside their Guardian friend to defend Crystal City, perhaps they could at least fight alongside him against other foes. This, however, called for yet another lie.

Omega set the last of them down and waited anxiously to see if it worked. He seemed extremely relieved when Hook announced that he felt sane again, and suggested that perhaps they might rebuild what had fallen. Omega unconsciously allowed his exact path to be guided, believing, perhaps, that as construction workers, the caretakers-turned-destroyers would know where best to start the rebuilding. When they encountered the Robo-smasher, he ordered the others back, intending to fight, to the death, if necessary, to keep his family.

And the Constructicons, if they had their druthers, would keep him. For the first time ever, six beings merged into one, and the new, seventh, influenced by the components' recent reprogramming and the destruction of their city, named himself Devastator. Omega, who had never known about their project, was taken off-guard, and would later assume that their new form had been granted by the Decepticons. At the time, however, with Devastator holding him against a wall and the Robo-smasher trying to rebuild his loyalties from the ground up, Omega had other concerns on his mind.

The Robo-smasher and the Guardian both originated as means to keep Cybertronians in-line and obedient, and as one attempted to reprogram the other, things began to break down. Rather then letting his mind rebuild around a new set of core values, the Robo-smasher attempted to return Omega to what its own programming told it was the _proper_ state for a Guardian robot, and Omega felt his sapience draining away. He had gone to great lengths to try to keep the Constructicons his, but as his feelings began to unravel, he could not avoid a flare of fury that they would do such a thing to him, even if he knew, on the rational level, that they could not be held entirely accountable for their actions. When he finally managed to reach up and tear the other machine off him, that fury was one of the few emotions left to him, and he grasped onto it and held on every bit as tight as he had tried to hold onto his once-family.

The Constructicons fled, and Omega was too worn by his struggles to pursue them. The weapon that had been meant as a new kind of Guardian proved, in time, an effective weapon against the older, non-intelligent Guardians, though it was never quite enough to stand up to Omega Supreme. Once the Constructicons had built cities; after the events of that day they created mostly chaos. And the first weapon the peace-bred brothers ever built would remain one of the most powerful created by Cybertronian hands for many millions of years to come.


	13. Chances

The silence after Scrapper finished his tale lasted for several whole minutes. Parts of the story hadn't been known at the time, and had to be filled in later with information found in the Decepticons' files. Long Haul mentioned that he even knew the transport who had been turned early, although had never suspected anything at the time.

But the most surprising addition to the story was the one that Capstone herself had made. In all those years, the Constructicons had never realized what, exactly, the Robo-smasher had tried to do to Omega Supreme; they had always just assumed it would do to him what it had done to them. However, her brief merge with the Guardian had brought to the forefront of his thoughts the memory of that event from his perspective. Omega, for his part, had always assumed that the Constructicons had meant to strip him of his self-awareness, but the stricken looks the six gave her at the revelation were enough to tell Capstone he had been mistaken. Scrapper had stopped the story long enough to stare, and then lower his head and shovel, murmuring, "I guess it's a good thing it didn't finish the job, after all."

Finally, Capstone pulled her knees up towards her chest and rested her wrists on them, staring at her limp hands thoughtfully. "You should have told me all this before now. How could I have let him know what you meant, when you never told me?"

Scrapper sighed. "But we never knew that part of what really happened, and we would never have known if you hadn't made the attempt today." Then he shook his head. "It shouldn't be too late to make another try."

"Although it _will_ be a lot more difficult this time," Hook observed.

"Yuh," agreed Long Haul. "He'll know you're coming this time…"

"…but he'll still have us to deal with, right?" Mixmaster added.

"And Devastator's plenty to keep a person occupied…" began Bonecrusher.

"…even if that person is Omega Supreme," finished Scavenger.

Capstone looked up, and then stared from Constructicon to Construction. "I really hate it when you guys do that," she muttered.

The others glanced back and forth among themselves, before Hook asked, "Do… what?"

The grey mechanoid shook her head fondly, and said, "Never mind." Then she slid off the medical table and stood upright. "If there's nothing else, I'd like to go to the cockpit. I mean, this is my first time in space, after all. I… I'd like to see if the stars look any different from out here."

Several chuckled, and Scrapper waved her away. "Go ahead. You're done in here." Capstone needed no more prompting, and she hurried from the room.

The others watched her leave, and when she was gone, Scavenger turned to the others and said, a bit nervously, "So, uhm… are we going to tell her that the dependency routines activated and, well, aren't acting right?"

Scrapper's shovel lowered again, and he turned back to the monitor he and Hook had been going over earlier, a screen filled with the symbols that made up various types of Transformer code. He shook his head. "No. No point, really. If she fulfills her purpose in time or we find a way to fix it, it won't be an issue and she won't need to know about it. If not… why make what time she has left even worse?"


	14. Surly

If Long Haul had had a mouth, he'd have been smirking. The Constructicons had found a planet where the locals didn't ask too many questions of their construction workers, and so the green team had gotten back to taking contracts to survive. Unfortunately, while Capstone had an in-built urge to build, she lacked any of the corresponding skills. Despite this, she refused to be left in the ship, so when she accompanied them to the job she was put to work in whatever capacity she could handle.

This meant that Capstone was doing a lot of the tool-carrying, part-fetching, gofer tasks. In other words, she was stuck doing Long Haul's normal job while Long Haul _finally_ got to do real work. And the fact that she was, technically, a warrior of sorts made her reduction to such a role all the more enjoyable.

At the moment, Capstone was, specifically, carrying tools for Long Haul, and just as Long Haul would be doing had their positions been reversed, she was complaining about it. "'Capstone, give me the welder, Capstone, hold this for me,'" she mocked as she tilted her optic band skyward. "Smelt, but how long are we going to be stuck out here doing this stuff, anyway?"

"You know, you _could_ be back on the ship," Long Haul pointed out. "Probably should be, actually."

Capstone sniffed and, switching to a slightly haughty tone, said, "And let you guys instead give me grief for not being useful? I think _not_."

"Then what are you griping-" Long Haul began, before they were both interrupted by Scrapper's approach.

"Long Haul!" Scrapper snapped. "Capstone has better things to do besides playing tool caddy for you!" Capstone's shoulders and cannon slumped slightly in relief, until Scrapper told her, "Capstone, I'm going to need 20 of the larger sheets of metal moved closer to the northwest corner of the site. Take care of that for me."

Capstone made a low growling noise, put down the tools she had been carrying for Long Haul, and stormed off. As she passed Bonecrusher, the demolitionist shouted, "Hey, Wrench Wench! While you're at it, drag another ten of those sheets over here, will you?"

"ARGH!"

Scrapper and Long Haul watched her leave for a moment, Long Haul chuckling quietly. Then Scrapper sobered, and hissed quietly, "How's she doing?"

"Well, she may have gotten surlier," Long Haul answered as he returned to work, "but the big question there may be why it didn't happen sooner, all things considered."

"Right," muttered Scrapper, agreeing readily. "Anything else?"

"She's gotten… clingy?" The transporter grasped for the right word. "She's been trying to hide it under all that anger, but she'll do about anything to not be alone."

"She never did like to be alone."

"It's a lot worse, Scrapper."

Scrapper rubbed his chin to consider this, and then he nodded. "You're right," he conceded. "Still, this might not be all bad… if she managed to transfer the routines after all, it could work to our advantage."

"Scrapper, ain't it set to get worse?"

"Well, it is, but it wasn't supposed to activate on her end at all, so we've already got deviation. Besides, if she did transfer-"

"That's a pretty damn big 'if'," Long Haul growled.

"I know, I know," Scrapper sighed. "But what else do you expect me to do? Hook and I are working on the problem when we can." Scrapper then lowered his voice further. "Besides, you know that if it comes down to her or us…"

Long Haul stopped work to turn towards Scrapper, fixing him with a long, steady stare. Finally he rumbled, "She practically is one of us! For smelt's sake, Scrapper, she's merged with us!"

"Practically, but isn't!" Scrapper protested defensively. "Besides, that's only if it comes down to that. I mean, of course I'm going to try to keep her alive! She's no use to us dead!"

Long Haul did his best to expressionlessly glower at Scrapper a bit longer before he accepted the other's reasoning. "Yeah, all right. I gotcha," he muttered.

Scrapper looked towards where Capstone was moving sheets of metal. If his words had been cold the droop of his shovel showed he was still bothered by the whole thing. "We'll do what we can. But in the meantime, try to keep a close eye on her. It might give us an idea on how much time we have. For right now, though, I've got to get back to work." With that, Scrapper turned and headed towards the northwest corner of the site.


	15. Void

"Autobot craft, Omega Supreme," the air traffic controller of the alien spaceport announced over the common frequency, "you are cleared for take-off."

"Clearance: acknowledged," Omega replied calmly enough, and yet, strangely, he hesitated.

The detour back to Cybertron for repairs had been inconvenient, at the very least, and while the Autobot medics and technicians granted him a clean bill of health, something still felt… off. No one questioned him too deeply, but then, no one ever had; it hadn't been necessary. Now that the planetary government was being established, a few Autobot clean-up crews were being formed to deal with small Decepticon cells that might cause problems. Omega Supreme wasn't needed for governing, and so he had been counted as a clean-up crew all on his own.

The make up of the clean-up crews tended to be an interesting matter in and of itself. The Dinobots. The Technobots. Springer. Sunstreaker. All Autobots who seemed to have a hard time putting aside the war and accepting peace. Once the last of the Decepticons have been "cleaned up," would they be able to stop fighting?

Would he?

Omega Supreme's engines powered up, he prepared to fire his rockets, and yet he held off. Dealing with smalls was always difficult, but Omega had eventually found a lead that had seemed valid. He sometimes wondered why they never just got new paint jobs; staying lime-green made things _easy_ for him. But then, given what had happened during his last encounter with the Constructicons, perhaps they wanted to be found.

And so what if they did? He would find them, and he would destroy them, and if they foolishly insisted on making it easy on him, who was he to complain? He had their location, now, and had only to cross the long void in order to achieve the driving goal of ten million years.

So why hadn't he taken off yet?! The air traffic controllers were waiting patiently enough, as it took a special kind of bravery (the kind usually spelled with an "s") to rush one such as Omega Supreme, and yet Omega himself could not explain this sudden… reluctance to launch himself into the lonely emptiness of space.

And that was when it hit him. The pangs had grown on him during his trip from Cybertron to Senyla VI, but they were still faint then. Although he had traveled alone for most of his life, suddenly he found the idea of crossing the gulf of space by himself absolutely abhorrent. He simply, _desperately_ did not want to be alone, and the feeling was so strong that it was practically paralyzing.

Again, he wondered what that strange, small robot had done to him, but he understood there would be no answers if he stayed where he was. And so, gathering from that great reserve of determination that had let him serve as the Autobots' last line of defense for so long, and had propelled him forward on his hunt for the builders, he fired his rockets and began his long journey across the abyss.

And though his internal chronometers refuted it, this somehow became the longest voyage of his life.


	16. Family

Capstone was quiet all the way home, but then, she'd been quiet and sullen over the last few days, anyway. This worried the Constructicons, and on the drive back, Long Haul attempted several times to engage her in a round of banter. Hook, meanwhile, decided that perhaps it was time to look into taking care of her out-of-control dependency routines. Of course, since Hook was Hook, the fact that he had made a decision meant only that the problem might be taken care of sometime in the next century.

Long Haul, Hook, Scavenger, and Capstone were returning from a supply purchase. Long Haul and Scavenger tended to work together a lot, being acquisitions and transport, but Scavenger was more used to acquiring things by digging for them. Hook was along to check the quality of some of the more technical parts, but, typically, nothing met his standards. On the other hand, _everything_ met Scavenger's standards, so Long Haul was _also_ with them knock some sense into both from time to time. Capstone was there to help with the loading and unloading.

On the way back, Hook and Scavenger drove on either side of Long Haul while Capstone rode with the building supplies in the dump truck's bed. Her alternate mode was slow, even compared with the construction vehicles, and she was small enough that she didn't add an excessive amount of weight.

Long Haul hit a bump hard, jostling his contents and forcing Capstone to scramble to prevent things from falling out. "Hey!" she protested, shooting a glare in the direction of the dump truck's driver's cab. "You did that on purpose!"

Inwardly, Long Haul was pleased. That was just the reaction he had been looking for. Outwardly, he had no face (or even a head, in that form) to worry about giving away his thoughts. "Naw," the dump truck denied. "I'm a dump truck. It's not gonna be an easy ride. Besides, what're you complaining about, anyway? I'm the one doing the work!"

"Fine, then!" Capstone snapped back. "I'll make my own way back." She put her hand on the ridge of Long Haul's bed and prepared to leap over it, then hesitated. Instead, she threw herself against a pile of girders and crossed her arms. "That's probably what you want, anyway. Well, you're not getting it!"

"Well, if you really want to fly back, maybe I could fly with you?" Scavenger offered. He was ready for a break from Hook's company, anyway; just because Scavenger would care deeply for his brothers for his entire existence didn't mean he liked them all of the time.

"Flying is bound to attract more attention," Hook observed, a tinge of tiredness to his voice indicating that for the moment, he'd had quite enough with pointing out to the others what he felt should be obvious.

"If you don't _want_ extra attention," Capstone began, "why don't you just get new paint jobs. I mean… lime green and purple? That tends to make you stick out."

"Construction vehicles are s'posed to stick out!" Long Haul argued. "High visibility's important. Alerts folks to stay the smelt outta our way!"

"Yes, but… lime and _purple_? Couldn't you get, I don't know, some other bright color combination?" Capstone peeked out over the side of Long Haul's bed as she spoke. "It seems like the whole galaxy knows that lime and purple construction vehicles means 'Constructicons.' What happened to the whole 'robots in disguise' bit?"

"And what would you suggest? Yellow? Orange?" Hook asked haughtily. "Ugh. No, thank you. We _do_ have standards in our organization."

"Oh, right," muttered Capstone sarcastically.

"You do make some sense, Capstone," Scavenger spoke up, "but I don't think we're actually hiding as deep as we were back when you were in training. Am I right, guys?"

"That is correct," Hook answered. "While _I_ would have preferred more time to assess matters, Scrapper appears to think that it may be time to face Omega Supreme once more. I do hope you've been using your time wisely in preparing for that, Capstone; _I_ certainly would not want to be rushed in a task like this, but no one else has the sense to listen to _my_ advice."

"No no no," Long Haul answered. "You got it all wrong, Hook. We been listening to you. Takin' everything you say under careful consideration and all that stuff… and _then_ throwing your advice out the window."

"Which would go a long way to explain why we're in the state we are in," sniffed Hook.

Capstone sighed. "Well, if we're not hiding, why can't Scavenger and I fly back?"

"Yeah, why can't we?" asked Scavenger.

"'Cos we don't know exactly when Omega's showing up," Long Haul explained. "Don't want the two of you out on your own if he does."

"You built me a warrior," Capstone sniffed. "I'll take care of us."

"Yeah, but like you said before, we didn't build you a Guardian-killer," Long Haul snorted.

"Really, Capstone," Hook sighed. "Do you have any idea how many people who have made similar boasts over the years are now part of one of Scrapper's… 'art' projects?"

"Uhm… no?"

"Lots!" Scavenger boasted.

"Of course," Hook continued, "you do have one major advantage that the rest do not…"

"We built you," Long Haul finished for him. "But even that's no reason to be getting a big head." The transporter then hesitated. "Erm… no pun intended there."

Capstone snickered softly as she tried to settle into a more comfortable position. "Oh, of course not," she answered, agreeably. Once more, she fell silent, but this time it was a warmer silence than she'd been displaying of late. While the horrible, inner gnawing was far from gone, somehow knowing she was with family made it a bit more bearable.


	17. Damsel

Omega Supreme crashed hard into one of the forests of Cignam IV, the planet where, if the information he had gathered was correct, the Constructicons were operating as contract workers, helping to rebuild the planet's infrastructure after a freak series of environmental cataclysms had caused much damage. Or, at the very least, he crashed down on a planet where a group of lime green and purple robots who transformed into construction vehicles worked. There could be others, but it didn't seem likely.

The Guardian robot transformed and surveyed the damage caused by his ungentle landing, but further concern was cut off as his huge frame was wracked with shaking. He struggled to control himself; this was why he had crashed to begin with. After his long, lonely flight through the void he had been so desperate to be in the company of life once more that, in the end, he had plowed forward, unthinking even as the heat of re-entry licked at his armor.

Now he was surrounded by life, but the non-sapient forest was not enough for him. Now, more than ever, he _needed_ to find the Constructicons, others of something close to his kind, but what then? While his hatred burned bright as ever, he was also desperate to escape the crushing emptiness that so recently filled his existence. The Constructicons still needed to die, that much was certain, but once they had, what else was there for him? Death as well?

Was that why they had done… what they did? A sort of assurance of revenge? He wouldn't put it past them, and yet, he recalled no malevolence in the mental touch of… of… for some reason, his mind assigned the name "Capstone" to the sneak attacker he had dealt with when last he faced the Constructicons. At the time he had immediately associated… her? yes, her, with the Robo-Smasher, but later, when he reexamined the encounter, he realized it was some sort of new trick of his ancient enemies.

But just what the trick was, was still beyond him. Certainly, pre-emptive revenge made a sort of sense, but it didn't match with the impressions he had received from the other. Perhaps she didn't even realize her ultimate purpose? Perhaps… perhaps she was a fairly new innocent, one who could be made to see the error of her ways and the evil of her creators. After all, not everything made by Construction hands was irredeemably evil, something Omega Supreme knew all too well.

Perhaps, once rescued from the Constructicons, she could serve as a companion, something to combat the smothering loneliness.

The behemoth finally pulled himself upright and scanned the horizon even as he reached out over radio waves to tap into the planet's global positioning satellite network. The idea of using constructed, orbiting satellites to find one's location did not develop on Earth alone, and indeed, was only a logical outgrowth from using the markers already in the sky to navigate. Between the information gained that way, and the maps and other data he had downloaded back on Senlya VI, he had enough to begin moving towards the city where the Constructicons were supposed to be.

All things considered, however, he thought perhaps it best if he walked.


	18. Thrift

"He _crashed_?!" Scavenger asked, amazed, as he flew low alongside the others. They were flying towards the city, although they hadn't settled too far from it to begin with. The Constructicons weren't foolish enough to imagine that Omega Supreme would go easy on them just because innocent lives were at stake, but Scrapper had reasoned that if they managed to settle everything there, and survived, the local populace would have an even greater need for outside contractors. Holding the battle in a populated area simply made good business sense, and it's not like they could be blamed if the Guardian had been the one to attack _them._

"Yeah! Yeah!" Mixmaster cackled. "No radio request for landing, no nothing! He just came plowing right through the atmosphere and into the Mytsem forests!"

"BOOM!" Bonecrusher laughed, smashing one fist into the other hand as a means of demonstrating the crash.

"I don't guess he managed to break hisself?" Long Haul asked, small part concerned, greater part hopeful.

"Not enough to keep him from getting right back up and heading our way," Scrapper hissed. "Hurry!"

"We wouldn't _have_ to hurry so much," Hook huffed, glaring at Mixmaster, "if _someone _hadn't decided that creating new drinks was more important than monitor duty."

"Well, it is!" Mixmaster replied as he looked back at Hook, a completely feigned expression of surprised innocence plastered on his face. "Besides, you guys should have known better than to give me that duty, anyway!"

"Everyone does their bit!" growled Long Haul. "You ain't special!"

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, my dim friend," Mixmaster grinned.

Capstone flew in silence, mostly tuning out the banter. Her thoughts were on other matters, like her part in the upcoming battle, and how much she realized she _needed_ the mental merging with Omega Supreme. She had never felt so whole, so alive, as she had during her brief oneness with the Guardian, and had never felt so broken as she had since then, a feeling that only got worse with time. The Headmaster-inspired gestalt-component suspected that had to do with what was wrong with her. Before the day she had experienced completion, being incomplete had been tolerable.

And Capstone would complete him, she realized. Not only was she a means of delivering the Constructicon perspective to Omega Supreme, a way of _forcing_ him to realize that not only had they not chosen their paths, but that even after all this time, after millions of years of relentless hunting, the Constructicons _still wanted Omega Supreme back._ She could also help to return that part of his mind that had been stolen from him back when it all went bad. She could finally fix Omega Supreme.

And then, the only ones still broken would be the Constructicons themselves.

The group had just reached the outskirts of the city when Omega Supreme caught up with them, although 'caught up,' while correct in interstellar terms, didn't quite apply locally. The Constructicons had been flying _towards_ this city, rushing to meet their friend-adversary head on and bring their ultimate plan to fruition in a location that would be most favorable to them. The Guardian had had to go through the city to meet them, and one glance at his wake was enough to confirm Scrapper's suspicions about the natives' near-future need for a competent construction crew.

Omega Supreme raised his rocket-limb, aimed, and fired before he said a word, although his motions were deliberate enough that the Constructicons had the chance to fly out of the blast-path. He stood there, the end of his cannon smoking, and only then did he make his demands: "Surrender the female. Annihilation: imminent."


	19. Concurrence

The Constructicons could certainly not afford to spend a moment staring in bafflement at Omega Supreme's proclamation, but it was a difficult thing to resist. Mixmaster's high-pitched, over-cheerful voice responded first, "Sure! You can h-"

"Quiet!" Scrapper rasped out, barely audible, as he spun on Mixmaster. "He'll know something's u-"

"Hah!" Hook boomed haughtily back towards Omega Supreme before Scrapper could finish his admonishment. He always was the best choice for deceiving Omega Supreme. "Certainly you don't expect us to just _hand over_ a project we have invested _so_ much time and e-"

"You'll get her over our dead bodies!" Bonecrusher interrupted belligerently.

Omega Supreme's optics narrowed and a grim, unpleasant smile settled on his shielded expression. "Prospect: Pleasurable."

Long Haul turned towards Capstone and hissed, "Pretend to 'escape' to him in a bit, arright?" he suggested, before closing the distance between him and the other Constructicons.

"Only, uhm, don't wait too long!" Scavenger added quietly before following. Capstone nodded dumbly.

The Constructicons did not combine immediately; their whole may have been be greater than the sum of their parts, but the sum of their parts was faster and more numerous (and potentially more distracting) than the great big singular whole they faced. Instead, the group flew towards Omega, weapons out and blazing, taking pot-shots at the Guardian as they passed on either side. This did no damage, but forced him to turn back towards them, and away from Capstone.

The group remained separate for awhile longer, darting towards Omega in smaller numbers from different angles, shooting backwards, dodging clawed punches that could (and sometimes did) demolish buildings. Still, the Constructicons were not built for agility, and an extended battle against Omega as individuals was a certain recipe for disaster.

"Constructicons! Merge! M-merge!" Mixmaster yelled, voice tied taught between panic and laughter.

"Dammit!" Long Haul complained even as he transformed. "I wanted to call it this time!" If there was more bickering, however, it was internalized as the gestalt-connections locked into place. Devastator's head emerged from Hook's body, gigantic fists clenched, and the green and purple giant roared before stepping forward on his Scrapper-formed foot. "It ends today, Omega Supreme!" he boomed in his strange combination-voice.

"Irregular. Concurrence," Omega Supreme agreed as he lumber-lunged for the gestalt, knocking the both of them and an alien skyscraper that had stood behind Devastator to the ground. Once the Autobot had his foe pinned, he pulled back his claw arm and delivered a blow to Devastator's head that would shatter a mountain. He raised his arm for a second blow, one that would risk cracking the armor of the gestalt's now dented face, but before he could strike Devastator pulled his legs in and then pushed up, knocking the Guardian off of him and into several smaller structures. He then started to pull himself upright.

Capstone, who had been flying towards the Guardian, was forced to dart backwards to avoid being squashed. She stared with disbelief as Devastator tried to gain the upper-hand, and groaned as this time he attempted a pin. "Don't cover him up, you idiot!" she grumbled, more to herself than anyone, and began to dart about, looking for a means to strike.

Devastator fired his optic-blasts at the Autobot, and they hit with enough force to crack the other's visor. Omega responded by shifting his rocket-arm into position and shooting upwards; the energy cannon's beam hit the gestalt in the chest hard enough to crack the purple wing that nestled there. Devastator screamed.

The Guardian followed with another punch whose shockwave was enough to shatter what few windows in the area remained and, taking advantage of momentum, once more pinned Devastator, his claw crunching into his opponent's shoulder-joint. Omega's cannon powered up once more, aimed at the chest.

"No!" Capstone yelled, darting forward. The panel on her leg was open. She landed on the Autobot's shoulder and said, more quietly, "Omega... no." And Omega Supreme hesitated. He shook. Capstone stroked the side of his head gently and murmured softly, "It will be all right, Omega." Her energy sword crackled into life, and with one clean stroke she severed Omega Supreme's head. "It will all be all right," she whispered as she stabbed her connecting cable into the hole left in the Guardian's body, making swift contact with the necessary conductors. Mental barriers fell, and this time the intrusion was not resisted.

Transformers kept the bulk of what makes them, them, in their laser-cores, which usually occupied their chests. Some kept excess memory modules and perhaps even personality modulating circuitry in their heads, but, as the Constructicons knew well, this was not the case of a Guardian robot. It wasn't pleasant, and the loss of important sensor systems would certainly slow him down, but Omega Supreme could survive just fine without a head. As it turned out, however, he did not have to go without for long. Capstone's legs folded into treads that tucked just inside of Omega's shoulders and latched into place. Her body folded forward, her cannon snapped into place, and the translucent orange wings on her back closed together and folded against her back. Behind them, metal panels slid out of the way and an enormous face, a perfect replica of Omega Supreme's original, was revealed.

The head spun around so that it faced in the proper direction. Omega Supreme looked down upon Devastator with eyes made for him by the Constructicons themselves, and he remembered love. His expression softened, and a faint, sad smile skittered across his lips. Devastator noted the change of expression, and it was with a sense of relief that they began to dissolve the gestalt connection.

Thus, the Constructicons were very surprised when Omega Supreme fired his cannon anyway.


	20. Naughty

The Constructicons' spacecraft was in the air only moments after they had scrambled onto it, although Hook and Long Haul had both had to be carried on-board. Long Haul might have been pleased over the idea of someone else being forced to carry him for once, but he was unconscious and unable to enjoy the experience. The blast had hit the connections between the two just as they were initiating their dissolve, and the feedback had knocked them both off-line.

Scrapper only spent enough time in the pilot house to ensure Bonecrusher and Scavenger had control of the vessel (or as much control as Bonecrusher and Scavenger could be expected to have; Scrapper knew he would regret letting them pilot, but the alternative was Mixmaster) and rushed down to their repair bay, where Mixmaster already had Long Haul and Hook spread out on medical tables. "Dibs on Hook!" Mixmaster shouted as he grabbed Hook's repair kit from the storage area and scurried over to the table. He grinned at Scrapper. "He hates it when I do his repairs!"

Scrapper heaved a sigh, but really wasn't inclined to argue. For all his eccentricity, Mixmaster _was_ a competent medic and would be able to repair Hook, and it wasn't like _anyone_ met Hook's standards, anyway. Scrapper grabbed his own kit, and moved to check Long Haul over.

"Overload triggered the safety shut-downs, but did it in time to prevent any serious burn-out," Scrapper observed, then glanced over at Mixmaster. "Are you showing the same?"

Mixmaster nodded rigorously. "I am, I am! This will be quick! A charred component or two replaced, he'll reset, and be up and telling me how I got his repairs wrong in no time! I better make sure to rifle through his medical kit before then." Scrapper only grunted as he opened up Long Haul's chest plate and began removing those few components that had been burnt out by the overload. "So, why didn't it work?" Mixmaster asked with a taunting undertone. "It was because you guys left _me _out, wasn't it!"

"It was not!" Scrapper snapped back as he swiftly de-soldered a melted resister. "At least... I don't think so. I don't know. From the way he smiled, I was sure it had worked."

"Well, of course he smiled!" Mixmaster said as he finished his soldering and closed Hook's open panel, then began going through Hook's medical kit while the surgical engineer was still completing his on-line-from-overload sequence. "He had us! He smiled because he was about to finish us!"

Scrapper shook his head, then double-checked all his solder joints. "No. That's not right... that wasn't the same kind of smile." He looked up at Mixmaster. "It's been a long time since we've seen that sort of smile on Omega Supreme, Mixmaster, but you know better, too." Scrapper closed Long Haul's panel and initiated his on-line sequence. "We did do something. He wasn't as... ruthless when he chased us that time."

"Good thing, too!" Mixmaster chirruped. "Otherwise we couldn't have got away! But I've gotta wonder... why should adding in bits of Long Haul, Hook, and _Bonecrusher_ lead him to being more careful around organics' buildings?"

Hook finally came fully on-line. He moaned groggily, and then noted Mixmaster with his medical kit. "Hey!" he shouted, reaching for it. Mixmaster yanked it out of reach, and Hook overbalanced and fell on the floor, causing Mixmaster to burst out cackling.

Scrapper tried to restrain a snicker at Hook's fall, but wasn't entirely successful. Then he walked over to the cleaning station and said, "I don't know. As soon as we're clear and everyone's awake, I'm calling a meeting. We need to figure out what went wrong."


	21. Peace

Capstone rubbed the palm of her left hand with the index and middle fingers of her right. The motion, and the sensation that resulted, served both to calm her and to focus her thoughts. "Wait, back up," she said to Omega Supreme as she reviewed the collected reports on one of his internal screens. "I think I saw something."

Omega Supreme said nothing as the reports began scrolling backwards. She did not begrudge him his silence; she rather resented having to resort to spoken communication herself. They had little choice in the matter, however. They certainly couldn't travel through space merged.

"Hmmm. Yes... yes... I think we've got them. It looks like they're probably on Kirastak." Unlike most of the language in the reports, the word 'Kirastak' wasn't translated into Cybertronian. This was because Kirastak was the name assigned to the planet by its native inhabitants, and like most planets named by their inhabitants, its name translated roughly into something like, "the World," "the Earth," "Reality," or "the Most Important Planet In the Universe." Cybertronians were sort of odd ones out, as far as that went, a fact that probably came from their planet's origins as a factory world.

They had the Constructicons on the run. Of course, Omega Supreme had always had the Constructicons on the run, but Capstone intuitively understood how they thought on a level that Omega Supreme did not, and with her guidance, they closed the distance between predator and prey far more regularly. So far, the Constructicons had still managed to escape, but with each attempt Omega Supreme and Capstone had gotten closer to catching them, and the Decepticon builders were obviously growing tired. It was only a matter of time.

"Course: plotted," announced Omega Supreme over his internal speakers.

Capstone tilted her head back slightly and her optics dimmed. She stopped rubbing the palm of her hand to instead reach out and stroke Omega's instrument panel fondly. "Good," she said softly, sadly. "Soon they'll be out of their misery. They'll be put to rest. And then, we can rest."


	22. Gotcha

_I know you don't like it,_ Capstone told Omega Supreme as the face formed of her body frowned down at the small, squat building, _but this is one of the best opportunities we've had. Maybe the best we're going to get. _They could, of course, simply tear the structure open. Certainly, Capstone had no love for the ugly little thing. However, if she allowed Omega Supreme to destroy a Kirastakian building, it would only add to the burden of guilt already heaped on the Guardian, and Capstone couldn't allow that.

_We've only got two of them in there_, she added. _The rest of them are confirmed to be back at the construction site. This may be our best chance to cut off Devastator's legs, and with those gone, the rest will fall!_

Reluctantly, Omega Supreme agreed. He didn't bother forming words through their link as she did, but just let both his misgivings and his final agreement wash over her. Then, he transformed, and once he was settled into his alternate mode's components, the top, rotating segment of his tank transformed again, and Capstone hopped off. This meant that Omega Supreme's cannon would go with her, but the Guardian was far from helpless. Since they were closer to gestalt than true Headmaster, Omega Supreme was still able to return to robot mode should he need to, and power such as what he wielded, even blinded, was still power to be reckoned with.

Capstone drew Deathkillblade's inactive hilt and made her way cautiously into the structure. Just because she was "only" facing two of them was no reason to get over-confident. Even one Constructicon was dangerous. Some thought of Scavenger as the "soft" one of the bunch, but those fools would have done well to remember that Scavenger had been the one to kill Prowl. Capstone didn't have that particular memory, but she was no fool to begin with.

The howitzer-former crept along the dark metal hallways, staying slightly away from the grime-covered walls. At one point, she halted her forward progress and tapped her foot on the segment of floor in front of her. Capstone narrowed her optic band, then activated her antigravs and began to float over that area instead. When she was halfway across the section of weakened flooring, Mixmaster burst out from beneath and grabbed at the smaller robot's feet, cackling, "Gotcha!"


	23. Boundaries

Capstone returned to consciousness slowly, but a quick check of her internal chronometer told her that she hadn't been out that long. Well, of course not; if she had been out long, Omega Supreme would have torn down the building searching for her. She tried to reach out to him with her radio, but was unsurprised to learn it had been disabled. She found herself chained to a chair, her shoulder-cannon removed and Deathkillblade out of reach. Capstone scanned the room and noted all six of the Constructicons. "Good ploy," she muttered.

"You may have a strong understanding of how we think," Hook said, "but you are still very young. And foolish."

"You thought you could even take on two of us?" Bonecrusher laughed as he leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed.

"We built you well, but you've got a long way to go before you're at that level," Scrapper observed, tone mournful, though not so mournful as Scavenger's was when the digger spoke next.

"Why'd you do it, Capstone?"

The female's optic band went dark as she brought it off line, and she cycled her air-coolant system once, slowly, before replying softly, "Because it has to be done. You six, you're dead already. You just don't know it."

Long Haul stood up swiftly, roaring angrily, "Of all the ungrateful-," he sputtered off into silence, then picked up again. "After all we've done for you!"

"What have you done for me?" Capstone asked, her voice calm, not angry, not accusing, the tone of someone ready to lay the truth bare, no matter how painful it might be. "You built me, you built me of your very selves, but from the beginning I was nothing but a tool. I can never have an independent existence. I was a... a... patch to repair your old friend." Her band brightened as she once more looked out at the Constructicons. "My very creation was a casual mix of undying love and unspeakable cruelty, and you wonder why we feel you need to die?"

The room was silent for several moments, before Scrapper shattered it with little more than a whisper. "So he still hates us."

The glow of Capstone's optics softened and her tone gained warmth. "No... no, we love you. But what was done to you... it's made you incompatible with the whole of the universe. You'll never be completely happy, never be totally satisfied. Even now, the lines of code injected into your central programming are no doubt clamoring for attention, demanding that you stop with your hiding, your building, and turn to conquest. You can't help yourselves. You won't be able to stop until the whole universe is subjugated. Or you're dead." She shook her head. "We can't let it be the first option, but we can ensure the second is as painless as possible."

Mixmaster tittered nervously. "And they say I'm crazy," he snickered as he opened up Capstone's leg compartment to access her merge cables.

"No!" Capstone cried out with horror as she tried to struggle against her bonds, but it was no use. "You can't! Between what you've done to me already and my link to Omega Supreme... do you want to drive me _insane_?!"

"Hush now," Hook shushed as he began to connect the rest of them up to the same machine that had resulted in the formation of Terminus previously. "When _you_ have proven yourself as the greatest surgical engineer Cybertron has ever known, then you can give us medical advice. Not before."

Scrapper moved closer to Capstone and brought his hand up to gently stroke her left cheek. "We just need you to understand, my dear," he said gently. "It's not as dire as you two seem to think. We need you to understand, and to carry your understanding to Omega Supreme."

The howitzer continued to struggle, but that did nothing to prevent the last of the connections from being made. The machine was once more activated, and once more the barriers began to fall.

Capstone screamed, but as with the boundaries of her very thoughts, she could not tell where the scream began, and with whom it ended.


	24. Drowning

The exit loomed before her, but still Capstone hesitated. Feelings of love and loyalty and duty overwhelmed her, so much so that she felt she was drowning in them. _Well, there are worse ways to go,_ she mused fuzzily. She looked back at the Constructicons, who waited further down the hallway, out of sight of the Autobot outside. She may have provided Omega Supreme his eyes in robot mode, but his base mode's optical sensors worked just fine.

Finally, she turned away and stepped into the light.

"Report status," the Guardian boomed.

"They weren't here, after all," Capstone lied, the guilt threatening to shut down her vocalizer as she did it. _He'll understand,_ she reminded herself. _Once we merge again, he'll understand._

"Separation: lengthy."

"It took some time to search the building."

"Understood," replied Omega Supreme as he began to change back to robot mode. Capstone flew up to her position and folded in on herself as she settled back in spot. Her wings came together to reform the giant's visor with a final "click," a deafeningly silent noise after the racket raised by the rest of the reconfiguration.

From inside the building, the Constructicons watched carefully, searching for some indication of Omega Supreme's next move. Violence, or acceptance?

They watched, and they waited.


	25. Fall

Several hundred years later...

Scrapper looked out of Guardian Tower's highest window and down at the siege going on outside the gates of Guardian City below.

The Constructicons may have represented some of the most brilliant architects, engineers, scientists and builders Cybertron had ever seen, but they were pretty lousy when it came to naming things.

"Ingrates!" Hook growled from his position next to Scrapper. His fist clenched in fury. "We gave them the grandest civilization this pathetic organic world has ever seen, and the moment the Autobots came sniffing around, they turned on us!"

Capstone had been right. With Omega Supreme's pursuit done, the Constructicons had been unable to resist the internal demand for conquest. Thinking they could stop at just one, they seized the world they were on; the local militaries proved no match for the might of Devastator. But the truth was, once they had a planet, the Constructicons frankly had no idea what to do with it, besides use it to prepare to take the next one. They were not bad rulers so much as indifferent rulers, leaving the world to more or less run itself so long as their construction demands were met. It was from the areas that ran themselves poorly that most of the dissidents came from.

Guardian City had not run itself poorly. Guardian City had received special attention, so much so that much of the populace, raised for generations under Constructicon rule, actually took arms against rebels and Autobots alike to defend their home and their masters.

It had taken a long time for one of the Autobot clean-up crews to stumble on Kirastak, but once they had discovered a whole "oppressed" populace under Decepticon rule, ousting them became a top priority. The Constructicons had done well for themselves, but not well enough to stand up to a force like that. They had held the whole of Kirastak. Now all they had left was Guardian City, grandest of the Constructicon-Kirastakian cities, and its jewel, its center piece, Guardian Tower.

Scavenger peeked over the shoulders at the other two. "You know, the natives have been talking about some sort of legend. Apparently they say... they say that in a time of great crisis, the Tower will come alive to defend the city."

There were a few rueful chuckles from the gathered mechanoids. Mixmaster tittered. "Organics and their stories," he laughed, his tone almost fond, like someone speaking of a dear family pet. "What will they think of next?"

Long Haul shook his head. "Ain't no one going to step in and take care of this for us. This is something we've got to do for ourselves."

The six stood in silence for several minutes as the battle raged on. Finally, Bonecrusher spoke up. "The gates won't stand much longer."

Scrapper straightened and stepped back from the window. "It's time," he declared.

The six traveled together down from the tower's lofty heights, taking the elevator they had crafted themselves. They exited, and headed towards the collapsing city gates. They could have flown. They walked.

Before they left the Tower's courtyard Scrapper stopped suddenly and looked up and back. He gazed at Guardian Tower, at the face of his old friend crafted from the body of his child. Several hundred years before, Capstone had merged with Omega Supreme one final time outside an old Kirastakian building while the Constructicons watched on, waiting to see if their procedure worked. They waited still; neither had moved since.

When the others realized he had stopped, they paused and listened.

"Well, old friends," Scrapper rasped, "this is it. I won't lie; we did consider running again. We just couldn't. We couldn't leave another city. We couldn't leave you."

He sighed, and took a few moments to choose his next words. Around him, his subjects rushed madly to and fro, running messages and supplies, sending reinforcements to those segments of the defenses about to fall. Part of him absently wondered if any of them were listening in to these, his final words. "I guess it's our turn to be the Guardian now. Finally."

"I wonder, perhaps, if once we've fallen, they'll let you keep standing."

And then he turned and rejoined others. Together, the six of them walked out to the gates to meet their destiny.

_Dedication, acknowledgement, and author's notes:_

_Final Stroke__ is dedicated to Lunatron. It would not exist were it not for her help and encouragement. She helped me with things large, like tweaking the broad concepts and suggesting the time period, to small, like translating normal English into Omega Suprese for me. She even suggested Capstone's name. Thank you, Luna. I couldn't have done it without you._

_I would also like to thank all of those who have provided their feedback and support along the way. You guys helped me to keep going when I was ready to quit. Specific call-outs: __Beckyh2112__RavenclawDevi__, and __Ragedaisy__. Thank you all. Also, a thank you to my mother, who knows very little about Transformers and has never had an interest in them, and yet has provided me with compliments and encouragements._

_Final Stroke__ started with a dream. Literally. I had a strange dream one night where one of the Constructicons (Long Haul) was rebuilt to be the head of Omega Supreme as a means of bringing their point of view to him in an attempt to get him to... not try to kill them anymore. I told Lunatron about this dream. We were amused by the idea, chattered, batted it around, but decided that the Constructicons would not break up Devastator for the role. Thus Capstone, and this fic, was born._

_I do not intend to write a sequel. I consider this fic complete. They probably die. Maybe they don't. Maybe Omega Supreme and Capstone __**do**__ wake up and save them, or just smash everyone. Maybe the Autobots make them pancakes. I don't know, and it doesn't matter. That's not part of this story._


End file.
